#Friday night poetry slam

[sizzal]

Hair dye!!!! Kiri X Reader

!!!!!Not my Art!!!!!! (Not my art) Hope you enjoy it!!!! 😆 🌺🪷🌻 Not a good summary But worth a read!!!!! Hair dying turns into a long night of feelings and love spells enjoy my little angels!!!!

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You and Kirishima had been friends since the first week of school at U.A. It is junior year now!  It was innocent at first just being friendly that soon turned to play fighting and that turned into long nights talking about everything under the sun. You had kept everything very much in the friend zone. So it was no surprise that you would ditch the rest of your group almost every Friday night to gossip, dye Kiri’s hair, write, talk, paint, dance, and just keep each other company just the two of you. People shipped you and rumors of you two dating speculated but that was all here say. Girls still asked Kiri but he always politely declined. He only wanted you and he told Bakugou he would wait as long as humanly possible until he could love you “properly”.  He went on some dates but very rarely. But recently something had changed you and he could feel it.  

You had been waiting for Kirishima for the last two hours. He had gone to get string for friendship bracelets and hair dye. You were left all alone on your bed sitting crisscross writing poetry. Yes!; You had resided to “boring” self-discovery. Something Kirishima hates to do.  

“Just be yourself why do you need to figure out who you are when you can Just Be”! He said while he ripped the common book out of your hands. Eager to watch the new movie he has been obsessing over. 

“Well, I happen to like writing poetry. It is the purest form of self-discovery. Just let me finish this last statement and then we can put on the movie”. You said. the sound of soft knocking wakes you up from your trance from when this happened the first year you two hung out. 

“Ok, Ok I am coming,” you said whilst tripping over your own legs and slamming the ground with a bang. You sprung back up and v-lined for the door.

“Hey,” you said with a sigh.

“Hey, did you just fall off your bed” 

“What no… ok yes. Do you have the stuff..?” you said with the smallest form of sarcasm. 

“Yes!!!!” he said while lifting the plastic bag to show you the hair dye and string.

“Thank god you were gone so long I started getting greys,” you said while going back to the place where you had sat before this “major interruption”. 

“Good God! I can see them” he said half joking while laughing. He flopped down on your bed face first with an exasperated sigh. He rolled over to face you, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

“ Umm, can I have the bag now or are you just going to keep me waiting”

“Don’t even start now Miss Impaction, you’ve kept me waiting for three years? Yeah three years now”.  He said while lifting the bag up so you could take it. Then he moved to lay on his stomach. Thinking about how tonight was the night he was either going to confess or accept defeat and lose hope for ever getting as far as the talking stage he had been stuck in the last three years. 

“Ok buddy talk about impation,” you said while you started to rummage. He replied with a sigh. He had bought his signature red dye, the string you asked for, and a myriad of snacks. Ranging from sweet, sour, and savory.  

“Oooo what are you writing?” he said before adding “Dear dairy today I am faced with the inevitable fact that I am so deeply in love with my super hot, sexy friend Eijiro Kirishima. He is the love of my life and I am going to marry him tonight at midnight.” he said mocking you almost perfectly. After he grabbed your book and flipped to the page you had been writing on. You replied with a swift whack of your pillow hitting him square in his face with not a second to spare.  You let go of the pillow and let him digest what just happened.

“HEY!, He said while grabbing you by the waist as you attempted to flee. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and he sat you in his lap facing away from him and tickled you. 

“OH GOD NOOOOO, HAHHAHAHAH,” you said laughing, trying to wriggle your way out of his tight grip.

“Oh, yes honey,” he said as he ruthlessly tickled you. Him having as much fun as you. 

“PLEASE STOP ILL PEE MYSELF IF YOU DON’T, AHHHHhahaha,” You said still kicking and trying to pry yourself from him.

“Should have thought about that before you hit me with that pillow, Angel” he said.

You managed to get away for a brief second before he had you pinned to the bed. Hanging over you, pinning your hands above your hands.  He was so close, you could feel his body heat radiating off of you. You could feel him. You thrashed trying to get free but he wouldn’t budge, all in good spirit of course. 

‘PLEASE I’LL PEE I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL” you said laughing through the tears that were forming from the edges of your eyes. 

“Do it, you won’t” he said calmly as he tickled away. He then let go because he could see it in your face you were about to pee.  He peeled off of you and sat up letting you go free. 

“ Good god Eii, One more second and I would have pissed myself,” you said jumping up and running to the bathroom peeing with the door only partly closed. 

“God” He groaned under his breath, so quiet that not even you could hear it. He was truly whipped. The full view of your body. The way your cleavage pushed up, almost out of your tight sports bra-crop top. Or how your soft-toned stomach looked in those short tight-lose linen shorts. Or how your thighs felt as you pushed against him trying to get free. The way your perfume did things to him. You just did him so dirty. Your demeanor, how you two grew up together. The way your body has changed from fresh out of middle school to this beautiful vessel to hold your engaging personality and loveliness he was sure no one could ever get to except you.  And how smart you were. How you were in love with literature and art. Good god he wanted you; all of you 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” you asked Eii in a playful tone. 

“Do you? Little miss I am going to hit my best friend in the face with a pillow.” he said mocking you again.

“Well Pretty boy, you mocking me was the whole issue remember?” you said washing your hands under the lukewarm water.

“Mhm,” he replied as he flipped through the pages that you had added to your book. He sat with his head against the headboard of your bed. One leg arched, the other stretched out softly.  you waked over and sat next to him as he scooched over 

“These are actually good, I like the one about rivers and moons and stuff,” he said as he continued to flip through. 

“Yea. Ooo flip back to that page I wanted to show you this.” You said as he flipped back slowly so you could pick it out.

“This one”, you said taking the book and reading: 

“I see you almost everywhere 

In the trees and how they sway softly to the rhythms of our once-shared heart 

I see you in the sunrise 

In the way the colors are painted in the sky, blurring together like notes sitting patiently on a staff; waiting to be played 

I see you in the ocean and how she glistens  in the light of the hour in the heat of the day, the time we were most intimate 

I see you in the moon 

How she sits patiently waiting for her star that will never fall back for her; the star that keeps her bright and beautiful. In a time where we would never know who we are. 

I see you in the rain

In the way the sky cries, melodically sharing her song of anguish and hate for those who prefer her kinder weather 

I see you in almost everything 

and almost everything sees me”. 

You finished, Kirishima’s eyes were locked on you and only you. He never looked away not even for a second. 

“Is that about your Ex?”

“..yea, felt it was time to let him go considering he left me.” You said as you jumped up to grab the hair dye.

“ Is it that time already,” he said burying his face into your bedspread groaning like a kid.

“Uhhh yes, your roots are horrific,” you said pulling him into the bathroom.

“I like the new art you put in your “common book,” he said the name of your book very sarcastically. 

“Yea it‘s a good advancement from heartbreak,” you said while holding your hands over your heart like you had been shot sarcastically referring to your last breakup。

He just rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist looking at you two in the mirror of the bathroom. 

“Mmmmm, we would be so perfect together,” he said groaning. He buried his face in your neck. 

“Ok, let me het the stuff for your hair,” you said paying no attention to his last comment. He would say these suggestive things when he had a bad day. Today was one of those days.  You grabbed a tote with solan grade bleach for his hair, a mixing cup, a brush for the dye so everything is even, an old towel, gloved, and tinfoil. He picked you up and sat you facing him carefully on the sink as you started to mix the bleach for his roots. He leaned in right between your legs closing any larger gaps between you two. 

“Ok, so do you want to do your whole head or just the roots,” you said as you combed through his head.

“Do we have to do it tonight, I could just rock black and red hair. The roots don’t look that bad,” he said as he looked in the mirror and picked through his hair himself. 

“Girl, you’re not serious, right?

“Dead ass” 

“you say that now but tomorrow morning you will be rushing to get them covered up,” he said 

“I guess, Just do whatever,” he said with a sigh.

“Look,” You said while grabbing and smooching his face in between your hands so he could look at you. “If you are going to be in a bad mood just leave. I don’t need Mr Moody. Like I am helping you, so be nice to me” you said as looked him deep in his eyes.

“Mmmm,…….. ok I’ll try, but just for good messers can you kiss me better” he said pursing his lips and trying to kiss you.

“Eww, Eii nooo”, you laughed- shrieked as you pushed his face away.

“Just one,” he said chasing your face

“HAHAHA, Nooo,” you said dogging all his attempts. 

“Just one!” 

“Fine, hold still” You said as you held his face gently his your hands and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“Not what I was expecting but I’ll let it slide,” he said as he mentally kicked himself for not just kissing you.

“Hey, it’s not my fault expectation is the thief of joy,” you said as you kissed him again “Just for good luck,” you said as his face washed with surprise. You looked through his hair and realized the color was fading.

“Feel better”

“Yes princess,” he said as he let you look through his hair once more.

“The whole head I assume,” he said after a pause of silence. 

“I think so, I mean unless you want to look like Mina with faded pink hair this Halloween, oo that reminds me I have to do her hair before we go to the party next weekend,” you said and you started mixing the bleach for his whole head.

“Alrighty but let’s watch a movie,”  he said as he left for his computer. 

“Put on saw.” You shout from the bathroom. 

“Which one?” he shouted back 

“The first one, I haven’t seen ‘em yet,” you said while following him out to the bedroom as you set the towel on the bed so you didnt drip any bleach or color on the white comforter. You washed his hair before this all started. 

“Take your shirt off,” you said while sitting behind him and rubbing his back

“I beg your pardon“ he shot “I would never taint a fair woman unspoken for， without a chaperone” 

You laughed at his joke referring to Brigdgerten and how absurd their world is 

“Shut up, haha,” you said hitting him on the shoulder playfully

“watch it girl pop,” he said jokingly as he pulled the shirt off his back and chucked it in the laundry hamper across the room.

His back was so muscular, it was alluring, to say the least. You touch his back. The warmth sends a slight shiver down your spine.

You started parting, bleaching, separating, layering, and wrapping in tinfoil. This process started at 7 pm and ended at 8 pm. By the time you were finished, he only had about 5 minutes with the bleach left in his hair. You ate snakes and squirmed under the grotesque movie you two were watching. Laughing and talking just about life. Just going back to friends and out of this weird mood he was in. 

“All right done with part 1, five minutes left till we wash ok?” you asked making sure he knew. The timer went off and you paused the movie it was almost finished with the first Saw. You both walked to the shower, unhooked the sprayer, and had him bend over the lip of the tub as you washed the bleach out as you would have in a real salon. 

“Omg!!!! You look so good, almost like Bakugou” you teased 

“Oh My FUCKING GOD!!!! I do” He said as he looked into the mirror. He had never looked at his hair blonde, it was a “cardinal sin” as Kiri put it. But You were pretty sure that he just didnt want to fall in love with the blonde. 

“Ok let me put the red in,” you said as you mixed the red into a clean mixing bowl. 

“Omg I kinda love this new look, but it would be pretty unmanily to take Bakubros look.” He said, he finally seemed back to normal.

“Yeah, don’t get any idea Ei,” you said while pointing to the bed to continue his hair routine. 

You started to put the red in wrapping it in foil and moving to the next one. You maneuvered around him to get every piece. Finally moving to the last part, the roots. 

“Wait! Before you do the roots, do you still have any bleach left?” He asked turning to you.

“yea, why?” you said skeptically afraid of what he was going to do. 

“just come” here he said as he raced to the bathroom. You followed him reluctantly. He sat you on the sink once more and took the bleach in his hand. Mixing what was left in the bowl.

“Do you trust me” 

“Oh god, what are you going to do” you asked as scared as hell.

“Just do you trust me”

“no…yes..no…why” you whined 

“Just trust me angel…mmmk,” he said as he winked and smirked with this wicked smile. It was cute tho, He was cute. 

“Ok… don’t let me regret this”, you said as you let him put bleach in your hair. He pulled your hair out from your half up half down style and brushed it, washed it then put the bleach on your money pieces. Your hair was a little longer than your chin, with a bit of a bob-not-bob going on with very nice layers and longer curtain bangs. You put your hands over your face and squealed. Afraid of the outcome.

“Ok we are done,” he said with an excited sigh. You turned to see your bangs covered in tinfoil. 

“Oh lord!!!!! If this is bad, I’ll shave your head” you said as you pushed him away gently as you hopped off the counter. He sat back down and you started to do his roots. You finished the back and sides all that was left was the front. You started dying the roots. Not even 5 minutes before:

“Ok stop, we need to talk,” He said as took your hand leading you to sit on the bed. 

“yea???? is something wrong?” You asked genuinely confused about what he was about to say.

“I can’t do this anymore, the hiding, lying and faking. Just come clean or I will” he said giving you a chance to confess first. You stared at him confused and blankly looking for a reaction you could cling to to make this make sense. You had no idea what he was talking about.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” You said genuinely. 

“Bullshit,” He said as he looked you so deep in the eyes. A look only described by infatuation. Your heart started to pound like a beating drum. We he about to say what you thought he was?

“Ok since you won’t say it I will, I have liked you since the first week I met you. You are interesting, compelling, smart, and beautiful. I have loved growing up with you these past years, I love that you are constantly changing with and away from the times. I love your personality and genuine caring personality. I love that you are passionate about everything, art writing, and everything in between. I have seen you grow out of phases and relationships just as you have seen me do the same. It has been an honor spending time with you as close as we have gotten.” he sighed and your heart just kept pounding not a single thought could be seen in your brain. You felt bad bc he was pouring out his heart and all you could think about was how y’all’s hair was so cooked. He started again:

 “I told myself that when you got out of your most recent relationship if you did, considering how much you loved your Ex. That if you broke up I would make a move. It sounds creepy and weird and I don’t want to lose you because of this but I am prepared to.  I didn’t think your relationship would last as long as it did, I thought you found the one, but then it crashed and burned. Y/n L/n I love you, I have for the longest time. I have never loved anyone like I love. Bakugou was telling me I should make a move and Blah blah blah but I was scared. So tell me you feel the same.” he said as he put his face in his hands, hiding his burning blush. 

“Eii…” you started sweetly before he stopped you

“Just let me down easy pls,” he said. You took his face in your hands and leaned in and kissed him long and passionate, just how you always wanted your first kiss to be. His face lit up as he threw his arms around you pulling himself into your embrace. Giving you the biggest hug and feathering kisses around your face fast and rough. 

“Wait you not kidding right?” He asked stopping mid-face kiss. 

“Fuck no’ you said as he started to yell with joy. 

“Omg she loves me too…. She…she….love..es me” He said jumping up and singing, spinning and pacing before crying in disbelief. 

“Kiri…. oh you poor baby come here pretty boy,” you said while standing up and cradling his face in your neck as he sobbed out of happiness.  

“Oh shit my hair!!!!” you said leaving him to reflect and take in this newfound reality.

You washed out the bleach. He let you surprise him with your new hairstyle it’s your turn to surprise him. You took some of the grade-A red hair dye and put in on the money pieces wrapped it in tinfoil to sit and went you to finish his hair. You finished it, set a timer, and sat in front of Ei.

“Kiss me again?” he said 

“Of course pretty boy,” you said as you placed a soft kiss on his lips before deepening the slow passionate kiss. The warmth and rhythmic melodies escaping from both of your mouths just filling the room with an intense heat. His hand was intertwined in your hair and he deepened the kiss even further. Your hand around his neck and cheek needing him, needing this. His tongue reached for your lips as if to ask for permission to enter your mouth. You both meeting in the middle. The taste of Kirishima was intoxicating. The way he slides his tongue on the tip of your teeth and how his tongue wastes not a second to explore every part of your mouth, you follow his lead. As this kiss expands. His pace speeds up at a rapid pace. He was never a patient person so you understood this need for you, this lust. The lude noses dripping from both your lips. His hand pulled at your soft short hair causing you to moan. You really did something to him and it showed in the way his pants had a tent in them from the way he was bricked. Only leads you to feel the heat in your core growing rapidly. 

You ran your tongue over his sharp teeth before he groaned in this newfound pleasure. His tooth accidentally went straight into your lip causing blood to spill over the kiss.  His shirtless body looks so fine in the low lighting. His define mucless and yummy-looking abs. 

“MMMMM,” You whined as you pulled away, 

“Trying to kill me I see,” you said as a long string of saliva parted both ways. You both laughed at the lude sight. You brought your hand up to his lip and wiped away the saliva and he did the same ,smearing it all over instead. 

“Eww, EI!!!!” You laughed. He just smiled。

“Sorry, I didn’t even process the fact I cut you, am so sorry, let’s clean you up,” he said while grabbing you bridal style and setting you down on the sink. You got all patched up just the timer went off. 

“Hey, I gotta wash your hair,” you said as you hopped down once more and showered him off. You washed his hair making sure to thoroughly scrub his hair and massage his head. When you finish it’s your turn.

“Hey go get ready for bed I am going to wash my hair out,” you told him while placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Wait how long has that bleach been in your hair?” he asked confused and worried.

“Don’t worry I have a surprise for you” you said as you smirked and giggled.

“oh lord,” he said convinced you were about to lose a third of your hair. You washed out your hair and blow-dried and styled it just to make sure it had the best first impression. 

“ok I am coming out” 

“ook you long enough,” he said as his jaw dropped. He was speechless, the bright red in your dark hair. 

“Now everyone will know I belong to you,” You said giggling as you ran to his arms and cuddled up on your bed. 

“God damn it I love you even more now,” He said kissing and running his hands in your hair.  you before you said 

“I love you too my pretty boy” You cuddled him to sleep. Tomorrow will be a crazy day for your class. a Saturday get-together at the skate park. This would be fun.  (Your class was geeked to see yu two toegether Mina made you tell her the whole story start to finish!!!)

Thank you guys, so this is long and took a while. Sorry for spell check mistakes I am illiterate!!!  NOT PROOF READ!!!! Tell me what you think about this!!!!

Love you!!!!!!!!!♥️😆

[timebegins-onopeningday]

Time Begins On Opening Day 2024: Round Up Post #1

Happy Friday everyone and welcome to Round-Up Post #1! This post includes links to all works posted in the first half of the season + details about First Half Commentfest which begins today and goes through the weekend.

Soft Deadline #1 offers us 20 (20!!) fanworks for five teams and 104 prompts across several teams as well as some broad and open-ended prompts! For a small fandom and only halfway through the season, that's pretty cool. If you're just finding this prompt meme now, or if you didn't finish something you were working on before the deadline, never fear - this prompt runs the entire length of the 2024 season! There is still plenty of time create.

Enjoy the works, slam that kudos button, leave a comment, and enjoy the second half of the MLB season!

Soft Deadline #2 is September 29, the end of the regular season.

🌞 First Half Commentfest 🌞

First Half Commentfest runs this weekend, from Friday July 19 to Sunday July 21. As we catch up with all these amazing works (fic! art! poetry! y’all are amazing!!) my challenge as a mod for us is to get every single one of these works at least five independent comments from five independent readers by the end of the weekend. (So we’re not including creator responses in that comment count!)

Why? Because it’s very easy to feel isolated as a creator – particularly in a small fandom like baseball rpf. We all know how easy it is to hit the kudos button and move on, but in a challenge designed to inspire creators for a very small, very spread out of fandom, a little encouragement can go a long way.

justleaveacommentfest has a list of resources for helping write comments on fic here and hxphaestion wrote some notes on what kind of comments resonate with artists (scroll for reblog) if you’re not sure where to start.

Let’s get all these works some comments!

🌞 Fanworks from the first half of the season 🌞

That we got as many fics as we did in the first half makes your mod SO happy, because we’re already past what we had last year!! This was a pain in the ass to put together because there were so many links and that delighted me. Shout out to you all, you’re all amazing.

I organized these by fanwork type, then grouped works by team and sorted alphabetically by the creator’s name + title (with the exception of one set of works, which are grouped in order of the series). Enjoy the works, bang that kudos button and COMMENT 🥳🥳

Art

Baltimore Orioles

[collage] heat waves by sapplyandherfriend

a celebration of dingers and slug edit: WOOOOOO TONY IS AN ALL STAR

Toronto Blue Jays

[collage] cheer on your team! by idlt

a toronto blue jays collage made on a 6x4 index card with a bunch of junk from the recycling bin

[collage] love song (show elation) by idlt

a vladdy and bo collage made on half of a page of cardstock with a bunch of junk from the recycling bin and a pile of old magazines that I got from someone in my neighbourhood who was going to throw them out, plus a few star stickers and a picture of vlad and bo pasted on top digitally

Poetry

Toronto Blue Jays

come home (the way they need you to) by idlt

A short poem about Vladdy and home and being seen.

Fic

Baltimore Orioles

one warm summer night (fireworks outside) by Settsplitt

Technically, they’re kind of hidden, standing a few steps down the tunnel, with their teammates all turned towards the fluorescent night sky, eyes fixed on the show. But still, Kyle thinks, as Adley tucks his hand under the hem of his pants, slipping his fingers beneath his belt and digging until he finds bare skin, this can’t be a good idea.

Milwaukee Brewers

In Stadium Light & Shadow by TheGlobeLifeBarn 

A thin satellite in orbit of nothing.

Philadelphia Phillies

Pressure Point by caltrain

Bryce fucked up his hammy and he’s being an enormous baby about it.

you think it’s different but it’s always the same by palimpsestic

Florida’s always so fucking humid, even in February—the air is sticky with unshed rain, hangs heavy with anticipation.

Who’s on First by powerblu (bluspirits)

A lot may have changed since Rhys first got called up to the Phillies: the size of the crowds, their record, the fact that they're playing in the World Series. But one thing is exactly the same: Bryce Harper is still there on the other team, annoying the hell out of him.

put some moves on you, babe (i know you need it) by pronoe

Bryson reminds himself to be careful where he sucks his marks on Alec’s skin, with the way he keeps his jerseys half-unbuttoned.

Seattle Mariners

Broken Foot and Cuddles by Anonymous

turns out that record-breaking pitch had actually been “breaking” in more ways than one. Poor Ty, with the foot fracture.

Toronto Blue Jays

Fiber arts for first inning starts by caltrain

There’s a hot guy no one has ever seen before at the softball clinic. He crushes three balls out of the park off of Kevin and pisses Kevin off so bad that Yusei slings an arm around his neck and kisses his cheek. “Can we get him?” he says happily.

5 Times The Blue Jays were Blue Gays: Number 1 Will Shock You! by idlt

George Springer is writing for the first edition of the new Blue Jays newsletter, organized and edited by Davis Schneider. George's first assignment? Clickbait the fuck out of everyone with the most unbelievable listicle ever (except somehow it is actually that gay)! Here's what he wrote, plus what Davis had to say about it.

he said i have bisexual swag! by idlt

An ode to Jordan Romano's short-lived yet glorious septum piercing (in the format of 2 idiots texting)

the grip of artificial chaos by idlt

Davis and Ernie sneak a moment in the dugout as the fireworks go off.

Out of Left Field by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Danny Jansen and Daulton Varsho were rivals playing on opposing baseball teams in high school. Now, ten years later, they are playing on the same team for the Toronto Blue Jays. As they weather the ups and downs of the baseball season, Danny and Daulton find an unexpected companionship in one another. But there is a lot on the line and neither knows if it is safe to indulge these feelings or if they are better left buried in the past.

Cover Your Bases by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Ten years after being high school rivals, Danny Jansen and Daulton Varsho started playing baseball on the same team for the Toronto Blue Jays. Their months together brought them closer as teammates, friends, and then something more. Now they need to decide what risks they’re willing to take if they want to make their relationship official.

Swing for the Fences by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Danny Jansen and Daulton Varsho are officially dating. Unfortunately, being public figures in a major league sport makes that anything but simple. They’ve agreed to keep things private until the end of the baseball season but that means Danny and Daulton must balance their blooming relationship and their work while navigating the ever-present media attention.

The Longest Road by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

After their nightly game of Settlers of Catan, Davis has a heart-to-heart with Spencer about his growing feelings for their mutual friend Ernie. Spencer offers some valuable advice and reassurance, which gives Davis the courage to accept when Ernie asks him to forgo the living room couch and share a bed for the night.

Therapy with Daulto Varsho by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Daulton has always been a listener rather than a talker. Whether it’s good news or bad news, he’s there to hear out his teammates. Sometimes, this leads to unexpected revelations.

[emmatriarchy]

Werewolf By Night - Red Band (2024) #1 | Sentence starter

Adapt pronouns and settings as needed.

"My friends reported seeing creepy stuff at this site, so let's go check it out for ourselves." "My buddy heard loud howling noises before a hairy dude chased him out." "If my suspicions are correct, this might be the same werewolf who teamed up with Captain America when he turned into a wolf." "Maybe we'll encounter a good werewolf." "Someone's made a home here." "I'm just making a friendly visit… you got a nice place." "Get out of my house." "I yearn to leave it all behind and forge myself a new life." "I've collected too many dark moments of betrayal, loss and heartbreak for my age… I just want some fucking tranquility." "If I have to let out the infernal beast to do the cleanup, so be it." "Just preparing for Friday's poetry slam at the rec center." "Should we be expecting another dark, brooding sonnet?" "I write what I know, but I promise I'll reach my sanguine phase one day." "You'll be happy to know I cleared some new hiking paths." "Just remember the curfew." "This doesn't look like your average overcast." "What the heck's goin' on?" "We'll try to figure this out when we reach town." "Daylight returned as usual… yet I still can't recall what I've done these past nights." "I wake up feeling the most severe hangover." "I feel my world crumbling around me." "This secret club has seen better days." "I can tell you're in desperate need of new leadership to guide you back to your roots." "I feed off pain and death. And you have made me hungry." "Is it true that the laughter in hell is for you?" "Never thought I'd visit this place again." "I'm bummed you didn't send me a party invite." "I can hear you breathing heavily in there." "You've been a busy wolf. And not in the nicest way." "There's a trail of maulings that led me right here." "I know this isn't like you. So I'm giving you the opportunity to explain yourself." "How do you expect to let yourself out?" "Leave me be. My curse will die here with me." "You're being too dramatic." "This isn't the first time you've been in this kind of mess." "Darkness and tragedy will always follow me." "I know my own claw marks and fang impressions… but the scent, it was off." "We don't know for certain it was you." "They'll soon find out I'm a Dangerous beast." "I know you well enough to believe there is someone or something else that is responsible for these murders." "Let's get you out of these chains." "My, how you have grown." "It's me… Remember? We were a thing?" "If he were any other monster, he would be dead by now. But this is an intervention for a monster friend." "He's gone berserk. Doesn't recognize me as friend, only as food." "I know hundreds of ways to slay a monster." "You're out of luck." "I expected as much." "If you're not holding back, why should I?" "I promise this will only hurt." "I deserve your fury, every bit of it."

[sketchys-hyperfixation-corner]

Friday Night Funkin': Original Character

New FNF OC I made! Meet Slam Poet!

It all started out of pure curiosity of what the difference between Rap and Slam poetry was. The MAIN difference is what you are doing it for. Rap is all about the ego. You are quite literally trying to one up your opponent. Slam Poetry is more about yourself in the sense you want to be honest with your feelings and tell a story. So slowly I developed the character "Slam Poet" who just wants to share his stories and have fun

Other facts: - Slam Poet goes by He/They - He is of asian descent

[pikachu78109]

More Modern!TCODC Headcanons because I’m bored :p

((I don’t have a list for each character; it’s all kind of random. Let me know if y’all are interested in some modern day AU Caligari Ask Blog if you wanna see these dudes in a modern interpretation))

Jane, Francis, and Alan get together for a Friday movie night and is always held at Francis and Alan’s apartment. Francis goes out and gets snacks while Alan cozies up the living room. These three tend to bicker about what genre to watch (Francis like both action and horror, Alan is a romcom fella, and Jane adores historical dramas). They end up playing rock-paper-scissors to decide. Francis tends to hog the popcorn bowl whereas Alan and Jane tend to nitpick on the film’s writing (they both have the writer’s eye), much to Francis’ annoyance.

Jane lives in the dormitory at the college she attends. Occupies it herself and it’s decked out with various posters from plays, musicals, and other theatrical productions. Has quite the plushie collection and keeps most of her manga/novels/writing journals on her desk or crammed into her college shelves.

Jane is not that organized but she can easily find things without trouble.

Francis and Alan live off campus and commute to classes.

Cesare doesn’t attend college due to his condition and because his guardians, Caligari and that other young doctor from the film, has him do stuff such as community work or exercises to improve his health (mental and physical).

Caligari has his own reasons for parading Cesare around, usually to fuel his notoriety and ego as a doctor. Gets jealous very easily and commands Cesare to either sabotage or “take out” his competition.

The other doctor, whom I’m gonna call Mathias, cares about Cesare’s health and worries a good deal about him. Wants him to interact with people and encourages Cesare to make friends, such as Jane. Caligari HEAVILY disapproves of this.

Mathias tends to let Cesare have a bit more freedom and allows him to go out and do things on his own, y’know, building up independence while Caligari isn’t present.

Jane and Cesare are pretty good friends, though people often mistake them as a couple. Both of them shut that down immediately.

I imagine Cesare’s demeanor that of Cinnamoroll from Hello Kitty when around Jane: sweet, shy, helpful, and overall kind. Jane is a blend of My Melody and Pompompurin.

Francis and Cesare do not get along. Francis thinks Cesare is a love rival and Cesare keeps getting annoyed by this. Their common greeting is a middle finger. Alan gets on fine with Cesare, though is admittedly intimidated by him.

Whenever Caligari and Mathias aren’t around in the evenings, Cesare sneaks out and wanders around the neighborhood in the dark, wearing his headphones and listens to music. He might not own a phone, but he has a CD player and owns a couple of CD’s that Jane has given to him with songs she picked out for him to listen to. Cesare likes to go to the park and sit on the swings and just…zone out.

Dr. Olsen and Caligari do not get along. They don’t tend to see things eye to eye and have had hour long debates which resulted in a few fists being swung.

Alan may be soft spoken, but the boy can SPIT. Try him at slam poetry and you’ll be surprised.

Adding on to being soft-spoken, Alan has a Podcast where he narrates bedtime stories and conspiracy theories about nonsense in a calming delivery. Has a good following.

Francis gets up at ungodly hours and goes on runs. He sometimes bumps into Cesare and these two will just stare at each other like two alley cats.

Cesare has a sensitive stomach, so he can’t eat anything high sugar, anything caffeinated, contain high amounts of sodium, etc. He’s kept on a nutrition plan that Caligari constructed himself.

Gonna say it: Caligari is an almond parent.

Cesare has gotten a couple of admirers, though he’s oblivious to it.

To be honest, Cesare is scared of romance altogether. Like, out of all the people in this universe, why him?

Unlike Francis and Alan, Jane doesn’t have a job. Where Francis works part-time in retail and Alan at a café, Jane does editing work on commission. Her parents send her money once a month to help with tuition, but Jane wants to earn money by utilizing her writing skills in her little freelance business.

Cesare usually lingers at the local psych ward with other patients. He’s typically with Marlene (the woman who was “playing” the piano) and Claudia (woman with the doll) as they are the calmest patients there. Cesare doesn’t stay at the ward; he goes home with either Caligari or Mathias (usually with Caligari, poor guy).

On rare occasions, Francis, Alan, Jane, and Cesare meet up and do stuff as a group whether it’s hanging out at the park, or at a nearby café, or just casually walking around.

[2dayihaveaheadache]

My very late Valentine’s Gift: Obikin AU, Modern/College Setting, (does a bar still count as Coffee Shop AU-ish?) Bookish Lit professor Kenobi spends a lonely night out drinking Whiskey at a bar in New York City until Anakin, a Twink, comes around with a witty pickup line and changes everything.

“Another round for us!”, Vos shouted, one arm raised, leaning against the bar counter with a cheeky grin. 

The tiny bar – Blue Iris– was lit by dimmed lamps and the air smelled like tobacco – sometimes with a slight hint of Jasmine, Obi-Wan loved his perfumed cigarettes. Clouded mirrors with tinged silver frames, Cuban mahogany furniture, a Morris wallpaper, vintage book copies, and an expensive collection of Scottish Whisky completed the image of the bar to be a pivot for intellectuals. It was perfectly located in SoHo, a couple of minutes by foot down Greenwich Village, and fancily atmospheric, British aristocrat-like, snobbish. To Obi-Wan, it sometimes felt elitist. Most of the guests were academics, reading and discussing philosophy, Nihilism, and Existentialism, while sipping on their café brûlot – every coffee was listed in French on the drink’s menu – and felt better than the rest of the entire world.  

When Vos had first invited him here, Obi-Wan had made the mistake of googling the bar. The name was a literature reference to Novalis, the prices high, even for New York standards, though they offered a decent variety of beverages – of course, all of them connected to a certain kind of image, French coffee, lonely philosopher gin tonic and mocha in the fashion of Vienna coffee house culture, something they tried to imitate. A rendezvous point for New York’s academics. 

“Come on, Obi, it’s time you meet your colleagues.”, Vos had grinned at him, brushing off dust from his jacket. Vos was one of Obi-Wan’s oldest friends and first-ever love – a poetry competition in Salinas, California had brought them together. Back then Obi-Wan had been a only college student, Vos was a couple of years older and an already established name in American literature. His poems had been tender, blinding with dazzling words, a trap – a Dionaea muscipula for Obi-Wan. Nearly fifteen years later and a broken teenage heart later, they had remained close even though Obi-Wan had finished his studies in Great Britain after their breakup and stayed in Oxford for his Ph.D. So, when Columbia University had offered him the position as the dean of their English facility, the two friends were suddenly living in the same city for the first time in years. 

It had been quite natural for Vos – a carefree spirit – to try to integrate his friend Obi-Wan into his social circle in New York, so he had invited him for a night out. “You’ll have a good time there. Live Jazz Music on Saturdays, poetry slams, and Absinth.” 

Obi-Wan had sighed and raised his hands defeated. 

“And you will fit in perfectly. Your charming British accent, your love for cardigans and tweed…” 

So, there he was, Obi-Wan Kenobi, an English professor, recently divorced, trying to enjoy himself on a Friday night out with his ex. He had positioned himself next to the bar, sipping on his Whisky – a Single Malt Scotch Whiskey, Chivas Regal – observing his surrounding. The Tobacco smell hung over the entire scenery. Smoking was en vogue in academic circles, it seemed. He nipped one of his jasmine cigarettes between his lips and lit it with a matchstick, an old habit. He took a few breaths before letting his eyes wander over the crowd again. Faintly background music was played, a low saxophone, and a smokey female voice, it had a jazzy feel to it. 

The crowd had broken up into groups, always gathered around a set of chaise lounges. A low café table in the middle. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Vos talking to a group of people, laughing full-heartedly. A few faces were recognizable. Mace Windu, a professor of Classics & Philosophy and a Hellenist, took a nip from a Gin Tonic. Next to him, dressed up in a black turtleneck with dark-painted nails, sat Depa Billaba, Mace’s TA. The youngest in the group was Aalya Secura, an investigative journalist, and seated next to her was Yoda – his pen name – one of the most famous Dadaism poets of the 21st century. All of them were Obi-Wan’s new colleagues at Columbia. 

Still, he felt like the odd one out, the intruder. He emptied his Whiskey. It burned in his throat but he did not care and took another breath from his smoke. Being the new one sucked.  

The bartender thumped a shot of Korn down on the bar counter. It clicked against Obi-Wan’s empty drink, glass against glass. Irritated Obi-Wan looked up and raised an eyebrow. The liquid shimmered colorless. Schnapps judging by its smell. Did the bartender pity him? Obi-Wan lowered his head and smiled bitterly, what a night. “Something for you.”, the man in the velvet suit explained, “From a gentlemen admirer.” A wink was added. 

Pushing up his horn-rimmed glasses, Obi-Wan turned his head around the room. A new song had started playing. Bass strings were gently plucked and a female singer sang about Le Temps de L’ amour – how fitting. Who in this bar would buy him a drink? Him? A lonely whiskey drinker, that was leaning against the bar counter, bitterly grinning to himself, the hair a mess of copper strands, dressed in a tweed jacket – maybe someone in an Irish Pub would, impressed by his cliché literature professor appearance but here it seemed unlikely. He was one of many, tasteless, nothing like the hipsters with their New York chic, black turtlenecks, vintage military coats, and Dr. Martens. 

Vos? After their breakup, the two had never really lost their spark. A few foolish drinks or a night where one felt lonely often led to a shared bed. Obi-Wan glanced at Vos. He was currently occupied discussing with his fellow Columbia professors, a smile plastered on his face. Unlikely. No. Then whose interest had he tickled? A woman had taken a few glances at him, long dark hair, and a red dress with a back neckline hugged her figure. Her smile was quite lovely and it seemed like she had a good taste in whiskey. No. She was out of his league. Then who else? The man with a copy of Nietzsche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” in his hands? He had looked up at Obi-Wan shyly a few times. Maybe. 

Something caught his eye. Nearby a man had raised his glass – the same shot of Schnapps that the bartender had given to Obi-Wan – and cheered to him, grinning cheekily. Was he flirting? He looked a couple of years younger than Obi-Wan and smiled with a crooked smile. A Twink. In the dimmed light his hair faintly shimmered golden, the unruly locks tied up in a low bun, and the rest of them framed his boyish face, his angular jaw piercing out, his eyes a midnight blue. He gave Obi-Wan a thumbs up before drowning the shot in one go and then stepping closer to the bar counter. 

“Why?”

“You looked lonely.”, said the boy with a more serious expression. His features had hardened, and his eyes darkened. He seemed older, end-twenties. The black inking on his exposed lower wrists caught Obi-Wan’s glance. A Quote was tattooed on his tanned skin. “Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, …”, were the cursive words Obi-Wan could decipher. The rest of them was covered under a black Shirt. The first lines of William Ernest Henley’s poem Invictus. Armor, these words were like armor tattooed on a body. What had the young man endured in his life? Interesting. 

“Do you buy drinks for all lonely people?”, asked Obi-Wan. 

“Only for the pretty ones.”, explained the man, smiling once again. “There was a beauty in your loneliness Like the Boy with the thorn, an inner turmoil but so tranquil on the outside, behind a masquerade of serenity.” 

That was probably one of the strangest pickup lines, Obi-Wan had ever encountered – even though he had to admit, that it tickled his interest. He had felt bitter before, sitting all alone at the bar counter, smoking, and drinking. His friend Vos was nowhere to be found, occupied with his own life and it had been truly a weird dynamic to go out with your ex. Now fate had granted him a chance with this beautiful, infatuating creature, how could he say no to this? 

Two sapphires pierced his eyes, tanned skin with a faint touch of copper, goldish curls, and chiseled body. To that, a mind thinking alike. “What’s your name, young gentleman admirer?”

“Anakin Skywalker.” 

The other man leaned closer and took Obi-Wan’s smoke. He nipped it between his lips as if he wanted to lead Obi-Wan’s eyes there. They were slightly tinted in a reddish color, like a dark wine, glossy and plush. Intoxicating. Thrilling. Kissable. The jasmine tobacco mixed with the other man’s scent of musk and made it taste sweet and bitter at the same time on Obi-Wan’s tongue as he breathed. The glare meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes was intense, dazzling, thrilling, and filled with something that sparked heat in Obi-Wan’s gut. 

Anakin let his head fall back and blew a cloud of smoke at Obi-Wan. He leaned even closer and paused an inch before Obi-Wan’s face, breath warm on the other man’s lips. It was like a silent question for consent. Then he slid forward the last centimeters and tasted Obi-Wan on his tongue. 

Maybe being new did not suck that much, thought Obi-Wan and opened his mouth to let himself be devoured by Anakin. Tasted like heaven with a slight hint of Jasmine tobacco.

[awalkthroughiris]

U2’s The Joshua Tree

hi people! i have no idea what i'm doing but i wanted to post this before i forgot to hehe, i wrote this a little bit ago, but i wanted to share, i fully don't expect anyone to read this but if you do, let me know what you think! i'm so sorry if the formatting is weird, i've never used tumblr LOL.

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Listening to U2’s The Joshua Tree for the first time,

randomly 1-2am on a Friday night.

I’m actively finishing the first track, Where the Streets Have No Name, as I’m writing this. I’m not sure why I’m here, or why I’m awake even, but here I am listening to my first U2 album. I’ve of course heard of U2 before, my parents have played their music throughout my childhood, but the only song I could name is With or Without You, and I honestly don’t even know 90% of that song. Recently, I’ve been listening to the band Inhaler, who’s frontman is Bono’s son, Elijah Hewson, and my parents heard me listening and nonstop talking about them, which in turn has become them telling me to listen to a U2 album. I don’t know why I’m deciding to listen now, but I feel like maybe I’ll have some cinematic existential revelation by listening to this album, but that’s the romantic in me talking.

Okay, about to start track 2 now, but I love track 1, it made me want to drive, somewhere where there’s an arch of trees with arms of sunlight reaching my face. Now that I’m thinking about it, that makes complete sense in terms of the lyrics lol. I guess the same message was conveyed musically as well.

The production of the second track, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” is very pleasing to my ears. This song is distantly familiar to me, I can think of driving to Oregon in the summertime, venturing back roads and this song playing, maybe after Lovers in Japan by Coldplay played. As someone who believes in God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, I can’t help but feel emotional while listening, but this could also be my nostalgic ties.

With this gentle emotional twist in my stomach, and the building of tears in my eyes, With or Without You has begun. My dad said recently how “emotionally evocative” this song is for him, and to be honest I didn’t and probably still don’t understand the way he meant it, but with the placement of this track in the album, I certainly can’t help but feel emotional. It’s giving me a similar feeling to the song A Real Hero in the context of the movie Drive did for me the first time I watched it. The lyrics are so simple yet I find there’s so many ideas and situations I can attach to them. I almost feel as if any interpretation I have would be invalid since I’m just a teenage girl, and a teenage girl who’s never even fallen in love or honestly had any remotely intense romantic feelings.

A switch in pace, Bullet the Blue Sky is playing. It’s easy to feel the angst in the lyrics, with the repetition in the drums and bass, it weirdly feels like slam poetry. This isn’t something I would typically listen to, but I definitely don’t mind it, the guitar break provided a nice amount of time to just, think.

Running to Stand Still’s intro reminded me of a Jeff Buckley cover, Lost Highway. It also makes me think of folk music. The way thoughts in folk music are expressed seemed to be some factor in the way the song is structured, honestly no idea whether that is intentional or not.

Red Hill Mining Town, took a turn I wasn’t expecting at all, I’m kinda grooving out though right now. “You I can’t live without”, since this is a first listen I don’t know the tie, but an allusion to With or Without You?? Oh my goodness, I totally recognize this song as well, the “I’m hanging on” that kicked in around 1:25 is something I recall. It’s weird how my brain hAnGs On to specific parts of these songs. I need to revisit this song after doing some research though because I have no idea what the commentary on this song is for.

There’s so much energy in In God’s Country, it’s refreshing. One of the things I notice with my music taste is that there’s a lack of creative percussion. Which I certainly don’t mind, but listening to music like this helps me understand how, for lack of better words, bland, the other songs can be percussion wise. I don’t have any context to who Bono is really, besides that he’s seemingly been painted as some sort of insufferable humanitarian, but the religion driven metaphors in the lyrics are very interesting.

Trip Through Your Wires might be my least favorite song sonically honestly. I don’t want to be mean, but it just isn’t my favorite. I’m not entirely sure what it’s reminding me of, but it gives me the feeling of an old western setting, which I find, not bland or empty, just not my cup of tea I guess. A complete sidenote though, I am DEFINITELY getting tired as it has hit 2am now.

I’m really liking One Tree Hill so far. One thing I’m really liking about this album, is the places it literally takes my mind to. I think I’m a very visual thinker, these songs evoke blurry pictures that are grounded in nature, images like running through tall grass or driving in some of my favorite places that remind me of my childhood. It feels pretentious to say “my childhood” when I’m 17, but I think it’s easy to understand what I mean. On another more relevant note, this song feels like its painting out an image of what absorbing life feels like: ambedo.

Although it might be the “weirdest” song on the album thus far, I’m enjoying the sonics of Exit. I like how bass heavy it is. Upon further inspection, because I had zero understanding to make of the lyrics, this song was made from the perspective of a serial killer, due to Bono’s reading of a novel. What I found creepily interesting however, was the fact that Robert Bardo used this song as part of his defense for stalking and murdering Rebecca Schaeffer. What I find especially creepy about this, is that I listened to a podcast about this case. An unsettling coincidence.

Continuing on in this unsettling feeling, Mothers of the Disappeared is a heart-wrenching tribute. I don’t think I have much to say about this one, because I have just learned the context to the song’s making and it’s just heartbreaking, I can’t even imagine what families went through. It’s a needed not-so-gentle reminder of what reality can be, and what it is for a lot of people. Its easy to forget that the horrors we hear of are actually real, at least this is the case for me, a girl who has lived in the same city her whole life and generally stays blissfully ignorant. A great finish to the album.

[theglycoprotein]

I know I don't post much on Tumblr anymore, but that doesn't mean that my poems aren't being written and performed everywhere and anywhere. On Friday night I competed in a poetry slam in Edinburgh, my home city - the competition was fierce, the writing and performances were top notch and it really could have been anyone's to win... and I only went and won!

This means I'll be competing against 11 other poets from all across Scotland in the grand slam final as part of the Edinburgh International Book Festival at the end of August. I honestly cannot wait!

[twowivestwoknives]

idk if it's presumptuous to say this but like. i feel you. no one is masking, i can die or get seriously sick if im exposed to something that, to others, is just a cold, and the only person i speak aloud to is my own partner. it's awful. but there's ppl across the country who are still doing it to protect each other, and that helps a little. you posting about masking and isolating helps. it feels like no one cares, but you're here protecting other people, even though its hard, and even though it's lonely and exhausting..idk. just seeing other ppl still doing this feels like seeing other candles in the window on a dark dark night. i hope this feels the way your post felt to me. consider this an outstretched hand 💙

nah not presumptuous.

Im glad you see the folks doin the work across the board; I defs have some ppl who are on my level of caution (and some at higher levels - i have to work in person and they’ve removed the mask mandate, so even though I’m masking at work...fucks sake ya know?). I’m tryna focus on the summer months when i can see a couple more people outdoors.

It’s been wild though. pre covid my weeks looked like poetry slam monday, kareoke tuesday, friends wed, kareoke thurs, party friday, maybe date or party sat, brunch sunday, like im a Social Bitch these last 3 years have fully changed the shape of my brain i swear it sucksssss

puttin some hope out there that you find ppl who care so you can have safe social :)

[sercophe-sinderwidth]

Thursday & Friday

Okay so I'm out of ex-partners that are still maybe single (not that I'm complaining about multiple days). ANYWHO. Per their outfit and snazzy, glowing weapon, we go to Thursday's Comic-Con. It's my first time so they lead the way on this one, taking me from booth to booth and panel to panel. (Dare I say I was led by the hand). We even attend a few Star Wars themed events, and I try to not fade to black as the hordes of Acolyte viewers approach to sound off their opinions on the show's cancellation.

That aside (and speaking for myself) a grand time is had overall. Whispers of an after party circulate and shoot, YOLO as they said back in my day. We go. We eat. We dance. We play hide-and-seek tag with glow sticks in the dark and stub our toes on random furniture sets. If you are tagged, you must duel until your opponent is disarmed. When everyone is tagged and defeated, the lights come back on. We play three rounds and then chat on the porch a while before leaving altogether.

-

Friday, we spend most of the afternoon in the library. I find a comfortable nook and we gather the books we think would be interesting to act out and read aloud to each other. We check out the ones we liked hearing/seeing the most and grab smoothies on the walk home.

Then I don't see them till later that evening.

We end up going to a slam poetry event (yayyyyy). The talented individuals on stage bare their souls through the ever-flowing rhythms of the written medium. Just below their voices, soft jazz plays on the speaker system as an accompaniment.

In between performances and introductions, I rehearse internal sonnets - each with a new focus. My partner's eyes, their hands, their smile, their ears, their voice - always with the lilt of glee barely contained in whispers of 'I really enjoyed that one' or 'that was beautiful.' Fighting constantly against the corniness of repeating "you're beautiful" aloud. We suffice the two drink minimum, me with an overpriced strawberry lemonade.

At the end of the night, I buy dessert from a cream puff vendor on the walk to the car. The drive is a comfortable quiet, 50's music rattling through the oldies station on the radio. I catch my partner's eyes examining the city lights and street lit avenues we pass by. There has to be something more to say than "you're beautiful" but the redundancy seems lost on my drowsy brain all the rest of the way home.

If the drive lasted forever, "beautiful" would be my second favorite name for them. The first, something uttered only in the stillness of my mind after we part and say...

"Goodnight~"

[whitepolaris]

Great Waukesha Phantom Kangaroo Flap

Kangaroos are usually lovable and adorable. But sometimes they can be nasty, especially if you've ever stood in the boxing ring and had one put you in the headlock and proceed to pummel you silly, as had once happened to Milwaukee journalist Jackie Louhauis. But overall, they're not the usual kind of monster that raises goose bumps on the flesh.

Yet kangaroos-or something resembling kangaroos-acquire a powerful aura of mystery when they turn up where they're not supposed to. Add to this intriguing situation humans going about their day-to-day business in ordinary suburbia and weirdness inevitably ensues.

Few realize how strange things were in Waukesha County for a brief period in 1978, when stories of kangaroos on the loose hit the national news media, Starting in mystery and wonder, the whole affair soon degenerated into a wacky farce that went down in legend as one of the Badger State's more bizarre episodes, and that's saying a lot.

The episode began on a perfectly normal day-April 5, 1978, to be exact. Waukesha school-bus driver Patricia Wilcox was the beginning of her morning run on Moreland Boulevard, a busy multilane road, when she reported seeing two kangaroos-one little, one big-hop across the road. "I thought they were deer at first," she related. "People were honking and slamming on their brakes, and finally one guy hit one. But it just got up and hopped off. The skid marks are still there. The guy just got out of the car and stood there, looking."

Seven days later, in the town of Pewaukee, Jill and Peter Haeselich and Peter's mother, Esther, saw a kangaroo in their backyard as they ate dinner. The animal, which was between three and five feet tall, was only fifty feet from their dining-room window. Peter ran outside, but the creature took off very fast toward the south disappearing over a hill. "It was going pretty quick," said Jill. "It was hopping. We knew it had to be a kangaroo."

That same day, William Busch, a social worker, was returning home from the Ethan Allen School for Boys. It was four forty-five p.m., and he was driving on Highway 83, just south of Waukesha. Fifteen feet ahead, a little creature scampered across the road. At first, Busch thought it was a dog. The creature had a slightly odd-shaped head, two short legs in the front, and two long legs in the back. He never called it a kangaroo but reported it in good faith as an example of the crazy local fauna.

On April 16, at three a.m., on County Trunk A about a mile east of Waukesha, Greg and Janet Napeientek spotted a creature in their headlights. "We were pretty close, within about thirty to thirty-five yards," Greg said. "It stood up, and I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was four feet tall, colored like a deer. Janet thought at first it was a deer, until it stood up on its hind legs, then jumped over a ditch and fled. She said it was a kangaroo."

In Waukesha, people began joking about the so-called kangaroo sightings. The newspaper ran a photo of two children standing beneath a kangaroo-closing highway sign. Storekeepers put cages out front, advertising $50 rewards for captured kangaroos. Kangaroos T-shirts went on sale. Weird letters to the editor were printed in the newspaper. The kangaroo cocktail-made of vodka, Southern Comfort, cranberry, and grapefruit juice-became the favorite drink around town. As one wag said, "It's guaranteed to keep you hopping." People even started writing bad poetry about kangaroos. One fellow wrote, "Maybe it's like the Bermuda Triangle, man, only it's a kangaroo rectangle." And well-known regional prankster William Woolley, who ran the Woolley Boys Bar, planned a kangaroo hunt on the shores of Pewaukee Lake.

Some fifty hunters gathered on the morning of Saturday, April 22 for the hunt. Many carried long black fishnets, oils of rope, and air horns. Some even wore Aussie bush hats. They were stoked," primed with beer since Friday night." Their theory was that air horns attracted kangaroos, and since kangaroos were afraid of water, the hunters would use the horns to drive the beasts to the lake, where they'd be netted. Clearly, it was a sound methodology.

Bill Woolley, head kangaroo hunter, led the safari in his 1973 white Caddy painted with black zebra stripes. A seventy-five-foot fishnet was strung across the beach. Then a crazy combo of motorcycles, four-wheel-drive vehicles, and human beaters with poles tried flushing the kangaroos from a nearby wood, all the while consuming beer and blasting their air horns. The only kangaroo they encountered was some guy dressed in a costume, who mugged for the cameras and got a ride on the back of a motorcycle. Even his costume was ridiculous, being a hastily transformed dog getup with large ears sewn onto it. The hunt lasted until four p.m., when the fearsome, weary warriors retired to Woolley's to crack a free fresh half-barrel. A good time was had by all!

Unfortunately, the hunters had been beating about the wrong bushes. Had they sober enough to wake early the next morning, Sunday, they would have discovered two kangaroos at the Nero residence. Oddly enough, Lance Nero had laughed his head off the night before as he heard about the ridiculous safari on the local television news. During breakfast, however, he was fiddling a different tune as he watched a pair of three- to-four-foot-tall kangaroos emerge from the woods, hop across County 22, and traverse an open field before disappearing from sight.

Nero stared, amazed, then ran to wake his sleeping wife, Loretta. She got up in time to see one of the kangaroos hopping away. "Now that I've seen one, I'm wondering if I'm all right," she said.

Lance and his son, Brock, chased them, Instamatic camera in hand, but lost them in the woods. This did find several tracks, however. They were narrow, about six inches long, and V-shaped, with firm impressions of the toe in front and a softer impression in the back. Nero and his son made plaster casts of the tracks, and cryptozoologist Mark Hall (cryptozoology is the study of unknown animals) subsequently traveled from Minneapolis to make his own set of casts. The authorities insisted that the tracks had been made by deer, but they were clearly not deer tracks.

It was at this point that the First National Bank began using kangaroos in its advertising. And that wasn't all. Someone brought a twenty-one-inch-tall wallaby to a Brookfield Volunteer Fire Department meeting and to the Waukesha State Bank, where it posed for pictures.

Then a much more mysterious photo surfaced. Two twenty-three-year-old anonymous Menomonee Falls camera buffs sent the papers a color polaroid of a kangaroolike creature in a wooded area. The photo was allegedly taken at five twenty p.m. on Monday, April 24. Supposedly, the camera buffs were photographing ducks when they encountered the kangaroo. Their picture appeared in newspaper across the country-proof that a kangaroo was hopping around Waukesha County.

On Thursday, April 27, the Wisconsin Agriculture Department put out a press release warning citizens to beware of kangaroos and to keep pets away from them, especially horses, because kangaroos could be carriers of equine infectious anemia. To determine whether a kangaroo was diseased or not, the press release explained, you had to examine the insides of its lower lip. If the kangaroo had a tattoo declaring it free of equine infectious anemia, you were safe. However, according to Agriculture Department Secretary Gary Rhode, "The problem is that the absence of such tattoos can mean either that the kangaroo tested negatively or that it was not tested at all."

Tattooed lips on kangaroos? This development had everyone talking for days. Turns out, it was a story created by Edward Jackonamis, Waukesha's Democratic state assembly speaker, who had issued a bogus press release that tricked both the agriculture department and newspaper around the state.

By this point, the mystery was officially a farce. Jokers and pranksters had won out, and most people had lost interest in the kangaroos.

Until, that is, Sunday, May 21, nearly a month later. That's when an Eau Claire woman driving along Highway 12 between Augusta and Fall Creek saw "a figure the size of a man hopping across the highway five to six cars lengths in front of her. It wasn't too visible, but it was not a deer, it wasn't a dog, and it wasn't a man."

Kangaroo sightings persisted, even after the famous Polaroid that so many had believed in proved to be a fake. Turns out it was a stuffed wallaby taken from a Milwaukee museum, placed in a cornfield, and photographed. Then in June 2000, some other pranksters confessed to having used a plywood kangaroo cutout, to which they had attached handles. Brothers Randy and Rick Latta and their neighbors, brothers Dick and Jack Schmidt, took credit for many of the kangaroo sightings. They said they would hide in bushes until a car approached, and then they would go bouncing across Barker Road.

However, there was no reported sightings along Barker Road, and it is doubtful plywood kangaroos were getting hit by cars, then hopping away.

[nyxnakamarriepk]

PERFORMANCE CATALOG

2024

JUNE - GAY BASH'D PRIDE @ ROADRUNNER w/ Poppy, Aliyahsinterlude & Rebecca Black

2022

May 

DJ Set // Boudoir // In Heat @ Union Tavern

June 

 DJ Set //  Euphoria @ Union Tavern 

Live set // Gay Bash’d Boston @ Roadrunner; headliners: Cupcakke and Slayyyter) 

Backup Dancer for TBT @ Trans Resistance MA; headliners: House of Mugler, ILYMAKONNEN

July

Eden w/ Chelita @ Union Tavern

Virgincore @ Union Tavern

Judas @ Union Tavern 

2021

June 

Themed Porch Party Series  ‘Y2K’ 

July 

 Themed Porch Party Series ‘Love & Angels’ / b2b TNA 

 Themed Porch Party Series  ‘Devil’s Night’ 

 ‘Delirium’ DJ Set @ Lilypad in Cambridge

2020

January 

Backup Dancer for Static Kween @ Gay Bash’d Oberon Theatre

January Live Set  @ Assteroid 001, H0l0 in Brooklyn

February 

Valentines Day @ Outpost 186 Cambridge

 Hosting AFTERWIFE rave by House of Kimora @ Secret Location

Crowns @ Foundation Room Boston

3rdwavve @ Milky Way 

ALL IN PERSON BOOKINGS CANCELED DUE TO COVID-19

April 

‘Digital Drag With Violencia Exclamation Point’ 

‘Gay Bash’d Two Year Anniversary Twitch Stream’ DJ set 

2019 

January 30th First Headlining Gig @ Middle East Upstairs

March 1st Opening Act WLFPK @ Sonia

March 7th Benefit Show for Indian Law Resource Center @ Dorchester Art Project\

March 16th Gender Bending Fashion Show Mainstage @ Museum of Fine Arts

March 22nd Friday @ Machine

March 26th Opening Act @ Middle East Upstairs

March 29th Revolt @ MassArt

April 4th Performed Tia Tamera with Rico Nasty

April 27th Host @ Reprieve for Demo Radio

May 2nd Mick Death Vol.3: Villains @ 2Twenty2

May 9th Saskia’s Utopia @ Oberon Theatre

May 16th Luke Martinez Dance for You Music Video 

May 20th Big Melee Choose Your Fighter @ Middle East Upstairs

June 6th Conn(is) Show @ Sonia

June 26th Boston Free Radio Interview in the Canopy Room

June 28th Mick Death Vol.4: Dungeon @ Black Lodge

June 29th Queer Qarnival @ Makeshift Boston

June 29th 3rdwavve (Secret Location Rave)

June 30th Queer Maker’s Market @ Windy Films Productions Studio

July 7th FEMS Feature @ Good Vibrations

July 14th DEBUT EP ‘I’m Baby’ Drops

July 14th Golden Deer Productions Interview @ Phoenix Down Studios

July 27th RARELIFESTYLE in Roxbury

August 1st Radio Interview with LofiHipHopThot

August 2nd Gay Bash’d One Year Anniversary w/ St. Lucia @ Oberon Theatre

August 3rd Face Value Opening Reception @ Dorchester Art Project

August 5th Versailles @ Zuzu

August 17th Summer Slam @ The Mad Music Mill Dorchester

August 31st HER MUSE @ Casa Cana 

October 5th Tufts University Performance 

October 11th Boston University Performance 

October 20th Opening Act for Domo Wilson @ Middle East Upstairs

October 24th Gay Bash’d Halloween w/ Maddelyn Hatter

October 26th Opener for Quelle Chris @ VietAid Center

October 28th Headliner @ Sonia

2018 

May 19th Girls Night @ White House w/ Dj Saskia & Isabella Amarga

June 24th Local Artist Feature @ Dudley Cafe

September 26th Gay Bash’d @ 2Twenty2

September 29th RareFootage @ The Lower Level

October 6th  Open Mic Feature Weird Folk Fest @ MIT

October 24th Gay Bash’d @ 2Twenty2

October 27th Host Saskia’s: HOWL @ The Lower Level

November 3rd Performed @ SIM Gala

November 30th  Mick Death Vol. 2 @ Garty

December 6th Emerson Zine Feature @ Dorchester Art Project

RELEASES

 2018 

Released in February,  ‘Peach’ a 4 track lo-fi EP released on Soundcloud. A combination of vocals and spoken word poetry touching on teenage angst, leaving the place you grew up, and facing your inner turmoil head on. Released under the name Mick Beth.

Track1  ‘cool girl’ sitting atis a 5 minute track about self-reinvention

Track2 ‘lonely babe’ a song about not wanting to be alone 

Track3 ‘peach’ a song about transitioning out of your idealized youth

Track4 ‘dead girl’ a song about battling your demons

August 2018 ‘Tulips’ a single written about hookup culture & unrequited feelings

August 2018 ‘Big Mick Energy’ a single written for leo season, a black queer anthem about forever being unapologetically yourself 

October 2018 ‘the internet (demo)’ a track about love in the digital age

2019 

March 

‘Virgo Vixen’ a lofi demo track about reclaiming your time - released under the name Mick Beth

June

 ‘Control Freak’ a track made from a string of text messages

‘Talk Yo Shit’ first single debuted on all streaming platforms, added to Boston Local Hip Hop playlists - released under the name Mick Beth

July 

Debut EP ‘I’m Baby’ released on all streaming platforms under the name Mick Beth. This 5 track EP tells the story of refusing to accept being disrespected, and reclaiming the “crazy” projected onto you

Track1 Ghost or Roast

Track2 Control Freak

Track3 770

Track4 Talk Yo Shit

Track5 I’m Baby

‘Selenite’ demo of first house track released on all streaming platforms

‘MEGAGOTH’ entry in Nicki Minaj’s #MegatronChallenge released on Soundcloud

August 

‘Neverbeenenough’ single released on all streaming platforms, vocal track about romantic inadequacy

September 

‘Spectre’ single released on all streaming platforms, about being haunted by an ex

‘Virgo Vixen 2019’ trap rework of original track, released on all streaming platforms

November 

‘Change your mind’ r&b single released on all streaming platforms 

2020

June 

‘Thoochiana’ digital release on bandcamp 

August

Oh you like techno huh? mix released on soundcloud

I’m a libra rising<;3 mix released on soundcloud

October

EVERY BLACK GIRL IS JUST ZUKO mix on soundcloud

December

1221 Solstice mix on soundcloud

UNRELEASED DISCOGRAPHY

PRIMUS / BBB / BIG / dont miss u / beautiful / se7en / chest / lo juro / GOLD / prayers for the water / joseph / lonely bitch anthem / mustard coat / maracuya / blood orange / cranberry peach / honeydew / PRIMUS / ULTRALORD / LOKITA / PUSSYMONEYMARIJUANA / what's it like / talk to the moon / sadsexysummer / mars in scorpio / arms / orange satin / everything i learned / m.y.f.f. / keep it down low / LSP / WHY DOES I LOVE YOU MEAN GOODBYE

UPCOMING FOR NYX: TBA

[velcrocandy]

Poetry slam

Tonight I read one of my poems in public for the first time. I was... nervous. But I think they liked it.

We awoke in broken bumper cars abandoned on the side of the road as she looked at me through the cracked frames of her 3D glasses from a midnight screening of Friday the 13th part 3.

She asked me for something salty to rub on an open wound. Best I could offer was an expired packet of Taco Bell Salsa Verde...

In the morning Sun, I was finally able to read the tattoo on her lower back as she rolled over. It said you'll never take me alive in Latin....

I mean, literally, it said, "You'll never take me alive in Latin."

I assume there must have been some miscommunication at the tattoo parlor and I wonder if she's aware of it.

A familiar song plays through the transistor radio as battery acid leaks into my purse and I think back on last night's depravity.

This many discarded aluminum trees hardly constitutes a forest but it's just so lovely to see the butterfly migration. They can be deadly if they gang up on you.

There's a hollow in an oak tree where I used to go pray but it's full of old comic books now. I still enjoy looking at the ads. Could've got a plywood laptop for only $1.25, had the offer not expired in 1989.

Picking one up I was struck by a startled water moccasin. My horoscope was oddly specific that exactly this would happen.

I came to in the arms of a substitute teacher. I don't remember how I wound up there but I was grateful for her company. She carried me into the restroom and ran scalding hot water over the snake bites on my wrists until the swelling went down. My vision cleared and I finally got a good look at my heroine. My Valkyrie. Her wings were still beautiful, even without feathers.

...Couldn't figure out why there's a deep fryer by the paper towel dispenser. Surely they aren't preparing food in here?

Never one to call it a night, I asked if I could walk her home. It was only upstairs so it was low effort for both of us.

In the landing was a seafoam green, fiberglass Packer. Perfectly tuned.Together we could have gotten it up the stairs but it still couldn't fit through this doorway.

Regardless, she cracked her knuckles and played Blue Danube in A minor on an Electron Echo.

Familiar like an endless train ride to somewhere I've never been.

Anticipation like an empty movie theater where all the clocks have stopped.

Joy like unexpectedly discovering a fully stocked taco stand in the middle of the woods.

Waxing memories of my favorite video game I haven't played yet.

Her music hung in the air like mist off of a pond as she began an impromptu concert. I dimmed the lights and turned the house plants towards her to be her audience.

Savor these memories. Save them in a jar. A vacuum where neither gravity nor time can affect them.

They're beautiful.

Always.

[aaknopf]

In his prose debut, the poet and professor of literature Joshua Bennett tells the story of the exponential growth of spoken word poetry—of how, he writes, “a specific performance subculture came to be one of the most influential literary genres of our age.” With its roots in the Black Arts movement, spoken word grew out of the dynamic scene at New York’s Nuyorican Poets Cafe, itself the outgrowth of an East Village living-room hangout hosted by the visionary Miguel Algarín in the 1970s; he and other writers of color would gather to share and critique one another’s work, probably not imagining that the highly expressive, tell-your-truth style performance poetry they nourished would go global within a few decades—from Broadway’s Hamilton and Amanda Gorman on the inauguration stage to a robust presence in classrooms, at protests, and on campuses around the world. Joshua, a shy kid who discovered his voice in the heyday of poetry slam competitions, describes his first time out at the Nuyo in the passage below.

Excerpt from SPOKEN WORD:

On a Friday night in November of 2006, my senior year in high school, I put on a royal-blue T-shirt emblazoned with Bob Marley’s face, and a pair of red-and-white Nikes I’d purchased with my Foot Locker employee discount. I boarded the 1 train from 242nd Street after taking the BX9 bus from my childhood home, heading south for Manhattan, to a place called the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Earlier that fall, I qualified for my first city-wide youth poetry slam, which was to be held at the famous East Village bar and global center for spoken word: the most famous poetry slam venue in the world. The only other time I had been to the Village was to purchase my first album, Juelz Santana’s From Me to U, from a record shop not too far from the Cafe. I would keep the record as contraband that year—no hip-hop allowed in the house—letting its sharp cadences and outlandish tales of uptown bravado color the raps I recited to myself in the still moments between studying for English class and writing for the stage, which by November had already become my second job, alongside the gig at Foot Locker. The walk from the D train to the Cafe was an education. All the elements of my surroundings were turned up to ten: each radiant color and irrepressible sound. Bass blasting from the windows of cars, dollar pizza shops packed from wall to wall, rows of sunglasses stacked higher than any passerby. When you got to the part of Avenue C where the Cafe lives, you knew it immediately by the line that stretched all the way down the block (whether we’re talking Wednesday or Friday, it made no difference, I would soon learn), the large black awning and booth that led to the door, and the mural on the wall depicting the famed Nuyorican poet Pedro Pietri. Pietri was sketched in blue and black and surrounded by red bricks on all sides. The mural also featured five faceless figures in hats and trench coats, as if a collective composed entirely of detectives who also happened to be ghosts.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the front of the line, at which point I paid the entrance fee and stepped inside the venue. The first thing I saw was the blast of Technicolor: red and blue and bright yellow where the stage lights hit the back of the room. All the chairs in the venue were aimed toward the back of the space, where there was a bright vermilion rug onstage, and a wireless microphone in a metal stand on top of that. There were paintings all over the walls, and a DJ in the back spinning records in and out of one another at warp speed. The room was bristling, alive. On the night of that first slam, my big sister, Latoya, had just returned home from her senior year of college. She came all the way down from Yonkers to the Lower East Side to see me perform. The host that night was a poet and emcee named Jive Poetic, and the place was packed. As is custom, the DJ played Bell Biv DeVoe’s timeless hit “Poison” right after the judges were chosen and right before the sacrificial poet touched the stage. Thankfully, I didn’t draw the first slot during this particular slam. Generally speaking, no one wants to go first. When that happens, you have to set the tone for the night, and have no idea what kind of work your competitors will bring to the table. Whether you opt for a funny poem or something a bit more politically charged becomes a gut decision, instead of a strategic choice based on audience reaction and the poet who performs right before you. It’s a tough spot to be in.

Ten teenagers signed up for that night’s competition and discerning an early favorite would have been difficult amid such a large field. I did my best to stand out. As a friend’s former mentor used to say, “Your poem starts before you touch the stage”—by which she meant that the process of communicating who you are, what you are about, begins the moment the audience first sees you, before you have even opened your mouth. It may have been my first time performing at the Nuyorican, but I was familiar with the lore. I knew that when the poetry resonated, it got wild in there: people yelling, banging on tables, laughing so loudly that you could barely hear the poet. Likewise, you could just as easily tell when the crowd wasn’t into it, and that was my worst fear— not rejection so much as indifference. The point of slam is not simply to be heard. You want to be engaged, encountered, unforgettable.

The poem I performed that night was the first one I had ever written for the stage: “The Talented Tenth.” As its title suggests, it was a meditation on W. E. B. Du Bois’s theory of racial uplift (a theory, it bears mentioning, he would eventually retract). The ideas that would become “Talented Tenth” were shaped during the two-hour commute from my parents’ house to my private high school in Rye, and then back again each day. For all four years of high school, I would wake up at five a.m. and speed down the block with my laptop and books in my backpack while just about everyone else in the neighborhood, my family included, was still asleep. On those walks, I would think at length about what it meant to have been selected for this opportunity. I knew that my friends, family, and classmates from childhood all would have benefited greatly from the sort of educational resources I now had access to. Until I discovered slam, I was never able to put that feeling into words, and wrestle with what it meant to me, and for how I should live my life. Though I was exposed to poetry at home—Toya kept a copy of Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman” taped to her bedroom door—the spoken word poets who entered my life my senior year, once I started going to slams, had an energy to their work that felt altogether new. For one thing, the vast majority of the poets I met around that time were my age. They used profanity unabashedly (to my mother’s chagrin), they talked about teenage angst, structural inequality, and global revolution in evocative ways, often addressing all these subjects in the span of a single poem. I knew from the very beginning that I had found my people—and my calling.

Jive Poetic called out my name, and I walked up to the microphone to mild applause and the discernible voice of my sister yelling “Let’s go, Josh!” from the front row. I took a moment to survey the crowd, closed my eyes, and tried to reimagine the scenes that brought me to this moment. The venue was packed to the brim that night. The stage lights shone so brightly I could barely see beyond the front row. The poem began:

I am a member of the Talented Tenth W. E. B. Du Bois’s theory in the flesh The cream of the crop the best of the best or at least that’s what I’m told by my standardized tests . . .

The poem clocked in at a little under three minutes, in accordance with the slam rules I had memorized well in advance. It reckoned with my experience of double-consciousness not only as someone who is both black and American—what Du Bois describes as “two warring ideals in one dark body”—but as a child of working people who attended an elite, predominately white high school. It then moved to a much larger narrative about racial discrimination and injustice, detailing the history of segregation, lynching, and structural poverty that I had learned from my parents over the years. Like so many spoken-word performances, “Talented Tenth” was a combination of autobiography and social critique. It was my attempt to hold a mirror up to myself and my surroundings at the same time, to invite everyone within earshot to hear my story and to see a piece of themselves in it. The performance went over well, and I was awarded a near-perfect score by the judges. Ultimately, I was selected as one of the winners of that night’s slam who would go on to compete in the semifinal phase of the citywide youth poetry slam competition. After the bout, Latoya took me out to Wendy’s to celebrate. It was truly a banner night.

Sitting at the bar that evening was a man named Miguel Algarín. I had never met him, or even heard of him, before that night’s slam. When I returned to the scene in earnest during the summers after my freshman, sophomore, and junior years of college, Miguel remembered me, and would say so. He never offered advice, or feedback on individual poems, or anything like that. The point, I think, was simply to clarify that the work had resonated with him. It would take me almost a decade of study after those first encounters with Algarín to begin to understand his contribution to the art form I was every day growing to love and setting out to transform in my own way. Without my knowing it, his dreams had been the foundation for my own. 

. .

More on this book and author: 

Learn more about Spoken Word and browse other books by Joshua Bennettincluding his recently published poetry collection, The Study of Human Life (Penguin).

 Follow him @SirJoshBennett on Twitterand Instagram. 

Hear Joshua Bennett speak on “Friendship and Black Study” with Jarvis Givens at the National Museum of African American History on April 5 (registration via Eventbrite, the event will be in person/online). Joshua Bennett will participate in the Vernon and Marguerite Gras Lecture in the Humanities Series at George Mason University in Virginia on April 13 (register here; the event will be in person); he will also read in person with The Friends of the St. Paul Public Library in Minnesota on April 20.

See the young Joshua Bennett perform his piece “10 Things I Want to Say to a Black Woman.”

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

[sungbeam]

𝟳𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗱𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝘂𝘀

nct dream ot7 x reader

1k words, assorted headcanons!

a/n: if i do not have the strength to write full fics, i will cheat 😌✨ to get my ideas out somehow 🤡

𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗟𝗘𝗘: shy boy by day! slam poet by night! and secret muse!reader

The kid who sits in the middle rows of the literature lecture halls with cute, circle lenses and messy hair who always seems to sound smart when he interprets a text

He actually became a slam poet because of you when you read your poetry to the lecture hall one day for Spoken Word Friday; he totally didn't start doing it in hopes of improving and then impressing you or anything (definitely not)

But one day, your friend takes you to this speakeasy to listen to this "amazing poet", and you discover your quiet classmate Mark delivering these brilliant oral masterpieces

And Mark finds out you're in the audience and pretty much writes every piece for you from then on, eyes constantly searching for you in the dark audience

𝗛𝗨𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡: knight in shining armor! but make it modern! cinderella!reader

You're working as a bartender for easy cash at a music festival while your two rude and terrible step siblings rub it in your face how they get to party while you work (your stepmother would only sponsor their tickets while you were left to rot again)

You settle in for a boring night in the most deserted part of the festival venue when you meet him

Renjun's the mysterious festival goer with his two toned hair braided with beads, and he thinks you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen; you can imagine the smooth pick-up lines coming out of this man while he leans against the counter of your bar section

After asking for a drink, he decides to dare you to ditch your position and go enjoy the festival with him; surprise, surprise, you take him up on his offer

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗢: bad boy! secret admirer! secret book nerd!

The typical stone-faced bad boy who stalks through the school hallways with a sick blue undercut and his pretty, pink lips always split like his knuckles

Every week, there's a book sitting on your desk, wrapped messily in scraps of newspaper and a message scrawled on its surface

Sometimes it says things that encourage you, or tell you why he chose this book for you, or just a simple "for you :)" with a heart next to it

Little did you know that your adorable secret admirer was the boy you thought wouldn't ever give you a second glance, but in reality was full on whipped for you (yeah, Jeno discreetly watches you open your gifts from the opposite side of the classroom every time, and thrives in the fluttery feeling in his chest whenever he sees you get excited)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗗𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗖𝗞: playboy who got played! (but can't get over you! the ex who outplayed him!)

Haechan's known around campus as a playboy and he's pretty much broken almost every girl's heart, including too many of your friends

You decide to take matters into your own hands and start dating Haechan with every intent to break his heart (the only problem is that you both fall in love w each other)

Instead of putting your mission off, you finish it and dump him, effectively getting your revenge, but at what cost? (You're mad at yourself, and Haechan can't decide if he blames himself or you bc he still loves you, but wants to be strong)

Now it's tense between the two of you, and after your friends figure out what really happened, they conspire to get you back together again

𝗡𝗔 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡: magical genie! archaeologist!reader forbidden romance!

So Jaemin's this centuries old genie who (is trapped) lives in a golden lamp waiting to serve his next master, whoever stumbled across his humble abode next

Turns out, you do find it, and he thinks he can predict exactly what you want, except he clearly doesn't understand you at all and you just surprise him every time you make a wish (you wish for things like a scholarship for your little sister, and for your mom's medical bills to magically be paid for)

But over time, as Jaemin practically becomes your companion, he grows a terrible, forbidden fondness for you and secretly wishes he could grant his own wishes to be with you

"Darling, don't say 'I wish' because I don't want you wasting wishes on things I would gladly give you for free"

𝗭𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗟𝗘: you took his airpod and he thinks you did it on purpose! now you are enemies! much ado about nothing!au

Clearly, stealing one's airpod is not an intentional crime, especially when it's only one of the two and … well, it's been in his ear, for God's sakes

So imagine your surprise when you find out your phone is connecting to "Lele's Airpods" instead of your own; you definitely disinfected the airpod and cleaned your ear, but you have no clue who tf "Lele" is

But you do know a Zhong Chenle who practically storms down the school hallway accusing you of a crime you only accidentally committed, and after both angrily returning each other's earbuds, you become petty mortal enemies

But in reality, you're both terribly attracted to one another and it takes some meddling from your friends to finally make you open your eyes (wbk)

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚: cupid park!jisung demigod!au sunshine x grump trope! child of hephaestus!reader 

Jisung's a pretty popular guy, not just because of his magnetic cuteness, but because of his affinity for making matches successfully as a son of Aphrodite (he's also super hot, but wbk)

You're a child of Hephaestus and you don't really see the hype of him really, but you respect Jisung as a person and as a fellow demigod so you don't exactly trash his matchmaking service

But then he'd challenged to find you a match, and suddenly, he's practically glued to your side all day and every day as he gets to know you in order to find you your perfect match

And he eventually realizes that maybe he's not putting so much effort into this for nothing, because why is his heart stuttering whenever he's near you and why is he always stalling on setting you up on dates now?

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